


Devotions Upon Emergent Occasions

by consciousness_streaming



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-27
Updated: 2013-02-28
Packaged: 2017-12-03 19:50:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/701959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/consciousness_streaming/pseuds/consciousness_streaming
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I assume we’re on double lock down tonight? Full moon,” he put up one finger as he said this, and another and another as he continued, “crazy Alpha pack who want to kill us all for our land, and even crazier human hunters who are on a weird homicidal pilgrimage to Beacon Hills to collect as many side burn pelts as possible. Wait, would that make this triple lock down?”</p>
<p>“Stiles.” Was all Derek said, and they walked into the house with Derek’s hand on the back of Stiles’ neck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Lucky Charms or Poptarts? Stiles knew what he preferred and he knew what Derek preferred, but he had no idea what the rest of the pack would want for breakfast. Throwing both into the cart and a box of Raisin Bran for good measure, Stiles made his way through the Food Mart as fast as humanly possible.

With an emphasis on the humanly part.

The hunters that had overrun the town for the “gun convention” would notice anything inhuman around good old Beacon Hills and it was for that exact reason, his humanliness, that he was elected to buy the food. Derek hadn’t liked it and in fact argued strongly against sending Stiles outside the well-fortified house, but the rumbling stomachs of his pack eventually overruled him and Stiles, who was going to go anyway, left the large home with a lot less guilt than if he’d had to sneak out.

Unfortunately, Derek’s protests weren’t just the ramblings of a too strict paternal type. The Alpha pack was very much a concern right now as well. Five years ago, when Stiles was just a junior in high school and so green that it hurts looking back on it, the Alphas made one mistake. Stiles. Or, two mistakes. But they were both Stiles.

When the threat of the Alphas had been new, Stiles dove headfirst into research just as he’d always done. And as usual, it hadn’t failed him. It was actually due to this research that he single handedly got the Alphas off Hale territory for five years. Well, that and their own badly timed kidnapping attempt.

One of the biggest faux pas a werewolf pack could commit was that of kidnapping a human pack member for their own gain. Unluckily for them but luckily for the pack, Stiles hadn’t seen Derek for a week or so before said kidnapping and apparently didn’t “smell” enough of the alpha for the Alpha pack to think he had pack status. But when Derek showed up full alpha with Scott, Jackson, Boyd, and Isaac in tow demanding the return of his pack member… well, Stiles _kindly_ informed the leader of the Alpha pack, Duke, of his mistake in violating Article Four Clause Ten of the Werewolf Accords of 1456.

Duke had sworn vigorously under his breath, screaming hoarsely at his alpha-betas about mistaking Stiles for just an auxiliary human connected to the pack, and demanded he would get his justice.

“Just as long as it’s five years from now, big boy,” was all Stiles had said, speaking for the pack, and the Alphas had rolled out like all the good squirrels had moved to the next state.

Bam! They were saved and Stiles and Scott could focus on school and lacrosse and normal people problems, Scott’s first ninety-nine problems being firmly _Allison_ and the last his lycanthropy. Stiles, meanwhile, spent his last two years of high school fighting Lydia for valedictorian (he lost, but with his head held high) and discovering his burgeoning bisexuality. It was a thing. 

A thing that none of the other boys in school wanted to explore with him. But there was a lot of porn. Like, a lot. Like, werewolves could not go in his room for months because of the overwhelming smell of semen. But whatever. While Scott was discovering his hairy side Stiles was discovering his like of hair—especially some good chest hair.

School flew by quickly in those days, sitting in class by day and researching the latest monster of the week by night. Usually with little sleep in between and a passive aggressive alpha slotted into the spare moments not taken up by the research and the sleep and the porn. There were a lot of frowns at first.

Working together in the last of his high school days helped Stiles discover how to get rid of those frowns, though. It was all in the little things with Derek. Any overt gesture to get him to smile or make him happy would be crushed in the angry fist of his eyebrows. It was a metaphor.

Like the time Stiles figured out when his birthday was and got every member of the pack to write him a message explaining how he deserves happiness and how awesome he was an alpha. Yeah, it didn’t go over too well. For one, Stiles rather thought Derek could tell he prodded them to write those things and that they weren’t heartfelt. God he was so naïve back then.

But little things went over much better. It took Stiles a long time to realize that Derek just wasn’t used to over the top declarations of affection. Coming from a large family, Stiles extrapolated, birthdays probably passed in an ‘oh, by the way, happy birthday, Derek, now can you babysit insert name here for me please?’ Stiles just had to change his game up, so for Derek’s next birthday in their senior year, he bought two cupcakes from the grocery store, invited Derek over to look at some research that he’d been working on and shoved the cupcake at him with a lame ‘got one for my dad before I realized he can’t have these. Cholesterol, you know.’ Derek had totally known that was bullshit, but the pretense allowed him to indulge himself and he gobbled up the cupcake enthusiastically and ended up finishing Stiles’ too when Stiles saw how much he liked it and pretended he didn’t want the rest of his.

Communicating with Derek required a lot of balancing lies. It was a good thing Stiles had such good practice with that, then.

Sadly Stiles knew that a web of lies eventually fell apart when you blew on it too hard. That’s what had happened with his dad, at least. Right before he left for Berkeley a rogue witch about eviscerated him on his own lawn. The Sheriff had been the one to find him and wouldn’t let any of Stiles’ excuses pass until Derek broke down on Stiles’ behalf and told him that the Sheriff needed to know and if Stiles didn’t tell him then he, as alpha, would have to.

So Stiles left for college on rocky terms with his father that once a week phone calls and strained holiday visits could never truly repair until Derek saved the Sheriff a second time from a banshee who had invaded the police force of Beacon Hills and was killing his deputies one by one. Two years into Stiles’ double major of Mythology and History he reconciled with his father and felt everything slot back into place for the first time since Peter bit Scott in the woods all those years ago.

Now Stiles was back in Beacon Hills for good, the history position at his old high school was his and he was crashing with Derek until he found an apartment in town he could afford. There were just some things you didn’t ever want to do, and moving back in with your father after you graduate is not one of them. His father understood. They had brunch on Saturdays that Derek usually crashed.

As he dragged his two shopping carts full of groceries to the jeep, eyes scanning the parking lot like Derek taught him, a red flag lit up a few feet from the jeep. Chris Argent sat on the rear bumper of his huge red Tahoe, like a man with just a daughter needs a car that big. Unless he was chauffeuring around a group of homicidal douche bags like these latest group of hunters.

“Chris.” He acknowledged, knowing that if Chris was sitting here, then he was waiting for him and no amount of maneuvering was going to keep this conversation from happening. Stiles appreciated the straightforwardness, though, and knew that Chris respected his as well. Stiles actually was on pretty good terms with Chris, as far as hunter-pack relations went.

Now there was a hunter in southern California that would rather scalp him than Scott, so Stiles hedged his bets where he could.

“Stiles. Stocking up, I see.” He said in his gravelly voice with a nod to the carts.

Stiles unlocked the jeep and threw the trunk open, eager to multitask. He had to get back quickly or Derek would get apoplexy. Or something suitably old person and stress related.

“Yeah, well, there’s a convention in town and we’re having forced bonding time.”

“I’m not part of the convention this year, Stiles. You know that. And so does Derek.”

“Just because you aren’t keynote speaker doesn’t mean you can’t do anything, Chris, and you know that. And so does Derek.” He replied back mockingly and a little bitter.

“Yeah yeah, I’ll leave you alone. Just wanted to give you a head’s up that the convention hasn’t had any luck, and tonight’s activity is hunting. They have been warned to only shoot for red, but I’ve heard a lot of the boys talking about letting their fingers slip.”

Stiles took a moment to appreciate Chris’ help. He actually didn’t have to tell him any of this, and he had acted like a Jackson level douche. “Look Chris, I… _we_ thank you. I’m sorry, I know you have nothing to do with this, we’re just—stressed.”

Chris nodded and Stiles finished up loading the groceries in the car. With a slam of the trunk, he held out a hand to Chris to show his goodwill.

Chris shook it, his grip tight like the man’s man he’s always been. “I’ve been meaning to ask you,”

“Yeah?” Stiles asked, finding the key to start the ignition.

“You said ‘we’ like you’re speaking for the pack.”

Stiles shook his head in confusion. “I am speaking for the pack.” He turned the key and started his baby up, her purr music to his ears.

“But how can you speak for the pack? You’re human.”

He felt a smirk cross his face. So much for laying off the sass. “I may be human, but I’m Derek’s second. I speak for the pack.” And he threw his baby into reverse and drove off, snickering at the dumbfounded look on Chris’ face.

He knew how strange it was to be second in a werewolf pack. Especially as a human. Usually, if there even were any humans in the pack, they were at the bottom of the food chain, so to speak. After the alpha was the head beta, effectively the alpha’s second and first in line for the title of alpha should the alpha die of natural causes. After the head beta came all the other betas in order of dominance and then the humans who were usually the significant others ( _mates_ Stiles’ mind torturously whispered to him) of the betas. If the alpha had a significant other ( _mate mate mate_ ) then they came before the head beta, or were the head beta.

For Stiles, as a human, to be essentially head beta was literally unheard of. At least according to lore as well as the puzzled yet priceless expressions of the Alpha pack last week when the two packs had the Meeting of the Packs. When Duke and his second Ethan walked into the factory and saw Derek with just the weak human they had captured five years ago they laughed like Derek told the best joke (note: he doesn’t. His jokes are awful. He is only funny not on purpose) and demanded to know where his second was.

“I am his second. Now would you like to begin or would you like us to go first?” Stiles had said, proud of himself for not losing his temper and even more proud of Derek for keeping his calm.

Ethan looked to Duke with dullness in his pretty blue eyes. “What is he talking about?”

“Wow you so didn’t pick him for his brains, did you Dukey?” Stiles taunted, unable to reign himself in. Derek looked at him sharply, and in the way you spend enough time with someone that you learn to read their facial expressions, Stiles knew Derek was telling him to shut up and keep some surprises.

Ethan roared back anyway, rising to Stiles’ bait. “What is that supposed to mean?!”

But Duke calmed him down with a touch of his hand to Ethan’s neck, likely reminding him who was in charge. “He means that both sides of a territory dispute who chose to go through proper channels via the Meeting of the Packs both state their cases as to why they should get the land. You would know that, Ethan, if you did your homework like Hale’s second here obviously has. His human has always been good at _homework_.”

Ethan looked properly rebuked and Stiles saw the proud smirk cross Derek’s face.

Derek spoke for the first time and as if the entire exchange before hadn’t occurred. He looked directly at Duke and stated their case. “This is my family’s land. It has been for generations. You won’t take it, we’ll fight to the last wolf.”

Duke’s face formed a malignant version of a smile and he responded with a threat in his eye as well as his voice. “This _was_ your family’s land. But your family isn’t here anymore and I am. This land is now mine. Run off and maybe we’ll spare your pathetic pack and your pet human.”

“We’ll see about that.” Stiles spoke for the pack, and dragged Derek away by his elbow, those red eyes boring into two matching sets across from them. “See you later, Snaggletooth.”

Stiles pushed the jeep on his way home. Home, as in Derek’s house. It was strange how quickly he adapted to calling the Hale House home. Even since he’d only been back in town for a month with two to go before he started his first job at the high school, he’d quickly adjusted to living with Derek. Every member of the pack had a room, or a room for them and their significant other ( _mate_ Stiles’ mind screams to his heart only to be ignored again). Erica and Boyd shared the only room on the ground floor, with Isaac, Scott, and Jackson and Lydia’s rooms on the second. Derek’s master bedroom dominated the third floor, along with a small library and the smallest guest room that was nominally Stiles’.

 As Stiles had the least need for a room in the Hale House for the last four years, he was assigned the smallest one when Isaac was doling them out. Now, though, living there on a semi-permanent basis had led to some difficulties. The room was originally meant to be a large walk in closet for the master bedroom. As such, it was tiny. Like postage stamp sized small. Stiles didn’t mind when he was in town for just a week or two because he only ended up staying there about one night out of those seven, seeing as his dad’s house was a perfectly viable option.

Since he was trying to be an adult, though, and not live at home the smallness of the room became a problem pretty quickly. He had taken to just passing out in Derek’s room. It wasn’t a big deal. Living among a werewolf pack forced you to become a tactile person, even if you by nature weren’t.

Packs marked each other by scent and you just had to get used to that. The faster the better. Stiles was used to watching TV by himself on the huge couch only to have Erica or Scott or even Boyd decide they wanted to watch too and lie down on the couch with their head in Stiles’ lap and demanding a scalp massage.

Derek never went that far, but he was well-known as a sleep cuddler. Well known to Stiles at least. There never was occasion for anyone else to sleep in his bed since they all had their own rooms.

The jeep rounded the last bit of the unpaved road that took them into the Hale House driveway. Stiles waved to the security cameras they’d had Danny put up last Christmas and parked the jeep on the other side of the line of Mountain Ash currently keeping werewolves in and out of the house. That was their protection from the Alphas. He whistled quietly, the signal for the pack to get off their lazy werewolf asses and help him unload the jeep.

Surprisingly Jackson was the first one outside. He grabbed a quick handful of groceries and started back in but not before whispering “thank God you’re back. Deal with him.” And rushing back inside.

Stiles rolled his eyes. If you rolled your eyes in a forest and no one saw you do it, did you really roll your eyes?

The rest of the pack came and went, sending smiles and scenting him for reassurance that he made it back okay. Then Derek came out just as Stiles was closing the trunk.

He stood in the doorway, sounds of the pack happily sorting through grocery bags and teasing each other wafting out the open door. His eyes burned into Stiles, like he thought he’d never see him again. He moved before Stiles could even blink and suddenly he had 200 pounds of muscley werewolf trapping him up against his baby.

Derek pushed his nose into the crook between Stile’s neck and his shoulder and inhaled deeply. This, he never got used to. You could never get used to someone platonically sniffing you.

Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek’s broad shoulders, comforting as best he could. “Yeah, alright, buddy. I’m fine. Promise.”

Derek got a hold of himself and jumped back three feet, staring at the ground like he could ignore his embarrassment. “What did Argent want?”

And that… that was another thing Stiles would never get used to no matter how long he spent in the pack. “He wanted to warn us that the hunters are going hunting tonight. Not like we didn’t know, but still… it’s nice to get a warning, I guess.”

“Are they hunting us?”

“Chris says they’ve been told to only shoot for Alphas, but I don’t think they took your picture around and said ‘just don’t shoot this guy even though he has red eyes.’ Anyway, I doubt they care about us. The more they can shoot the better to these guys.”

“That’s not anything we didn’t know.” He scratched at the back of his head and Stiles made a conscious effort not to look at the stripe of skin between his jeans and his grey Henley. “Still, it’s not fun to hear.”

“I assume we’re on double lock down tonight? Full moon,” he put up one finger as he said this, and another and another as he continued, “crazy Alpha pack who want to kill us all for our land, and even crazier human hunters who are on a weird homicidal pilgrimage to Beacon Hills to collect as many side burn pelts as possible. Wait, would that make this triple lock down?”

“Stiles.” Was all Derek said, and they walked into the house with Derek’s hand on the back of Stiles’ neck.

The pack spent that night playing monopoly in teams as loudly as they could to drown out the gunshots and howls. When that didn’t work, they tried to have a dance party at Stiles’ insistence, but no one was into it and after one song Stiles found himself alone on the dance floor whipping out his rusty robot. Bleak faces met his from the couches and none of them felt like dancing anymore, including Stiles.

So they put on a movie, _The Princess Bride_ , and curled up to wait out the perfect storm of awfulness. Eventually everyone made their ways upstairs to their respective bedrooms and Stiles followed Derek into his room without even thinking about it, and they fell asleep like quotation marks.

Stiles woke up the next morning to three missed messages from his dad and Derek’s leg sprawled over him. Stiles kicked Derek off with a fond look and a minute or two of totally not creepy looking. He slept like a baby. Or a puppy. Like a puppy asleep on his back and his limbs flopped everywhere and his tongue hanging out. Stiles put his pillow in Derek’s arms to hold onto while he went about his morning ritual of getting ready before he called his dad back.

He started the coffee and flipped onto his missed calls, pushing to talk button to get his dad on the line.

“Son, you alright?”

Not a good start to the conversation, Stiles thought. “Yeah, Dad, I’m fine. You?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Lot of dead bodies last night though. Animal attacks. You know anything about that?”

“Have you reported them yet?”

“I had to, the deputies found a few and we had a few panicked call ins. I can’t ignore that, Stiles. Tell me you and your pack had nothing to do with this.”

“We didn’t Dad. We didn’t. Remember the Alpha pack I told you about?”

“The one you ran off?”

“Yeah, the one I ran off for five years.”

“Five years?”

“Yeah” he said, knowing his dad knew where this was going. “And it’s been five years now. So, surprise, they’re back and angry.”

“Oh Good Lord. And you didn’t think this was important to tell me?”

“We haven’t had time. Things are complicated.” Stiles said as he pulled down two mugs from the cupboard above the sink.

“Things are complicated? Things are complicated?!”

“Yeah, Dad. C’mon do you think I would withhold this for no good reason?”

“Well no, I guess not.” The Sherriff said after a telling pause. “So what’s so complicated about this situation?”

“Not only are the Alphas in town, but that ‘gun convention’ that Chris Argent is hosting? Yeah well they’re all hunters bent on killing the Alphas and any wolves that get in their way. So we’ve had a bit more to deal with then, like, ever before.”

“Shit. This is just great. So now I have all these bodies around town and most of them are hunters? This is going to be a logistic nightmare. How many of them are going to have legitimate ID on them?”

“Only the really stupid ones. So probably like 10%.” He poured creamer and two packets of sugar into one of the mugs and two drops of creamer into the other one. He liked to see if Derek could taste the creamer he snuck in his coffee. It was a sad game he liked to play with himself. So far he hadn’t said anything, but that didn’t mean he didn’t know it was there.

“Shit.”

“Yeah, you said that already. Hey, look, we’re doing as much as we can but with two huge threats on the horizon for us, there isn’t much we can do. It’s hard enough defending our territory against a pack of freaking alphas but with the hunters in the mix it’s suicide to even leave the house. At least for the wolves of the pack.”

There was silence on the line for a moment before his dad sighed. “Does that mean that _you_ are leaving the house Stiles?”

“Um, yeah? Someone had to buy the groceries,” he said, a touch defensively. Why did everyone think he couldn’t handle himself? Wasn’t he the one who got them the five years to get their shit together in the first place? Five years ago the Alphas would have decimated them. Now they have a fighting chance. All because of him. And his dad and Derek and the pack were only concerned about him leaving the freaking house.

“Stiles.”

“What? I was fine. I am fine. Everything’s fine, Dad.”

“Everything’s fine? What did Derek think of you leaving the house?”

“He was furious, but what does that have to do with anything?”

“Because if he thinks it’s not good for you to leave the house, then I’m inclined to believe that you shouldn’t leave the house. He’s always had your best interest at heart and if he think s you’re endangering yourself then I don’t want you doing whatever it is you’re doing.”

“Dad, I’m a grown man. We’ve discussed this. I’m going to do what I think is best.”

“I know, I know. God, it’s not like I could ever stop you. Just…promise me you’ll be careful. I can’t… After your mom… I can’t lose you.”

“I know, and I promise.”

“Stick close to Derek and call me when you know more about what’s going on, okay?”

“Okay, Dad. Will do. Love you, bye.”

“Bye.”

Stiles found himself thinking about the conversation five minutes later when he poured the now brewed coffee and a sleepy Derek made his way down the Grand staircase and into the seat next to him. Derek held his hands out for his coffee and Stiles pushed the mug that read “World’s Greatest Secretary” into his hand. In about ten minutes Derek would be mad Stiles gave him this cup, the one Lydia’s internship got her as a joke for being literally the world’s worst secretary due to sheer not-giving-a-shit.

“Who’s’at?” Derek asked groggily.

“My dad. Apparently a lot of dead bodies showed up last night. Animal attacks. He called to make sure we weren’t behind it.”

“Does’e really think we’do that still?”

“Nah, but he has to check. He has to be thorough.”

“Hmmmph.” He put his head on the table, after a sip of his black coffee and Stiles was surprised to find his fingers trailing through Derek’s hair before he could even consciously tell them not to move.

Derek just mumbled his gratitude, though, so Stiles didn’t make it a big deal. Before too long the rest of the pack would start waking up and they would need breakfast. Stiles drained the last of his first cup of coffee, sorted out a second cup, and grabbed two dozen eggs from the fridge.

“We’ve got to figure this out, Derek. This is a shit situation.”

“I know.”

“Do you have any ideas? I mean, we’ve never been so far up shit creek before.”

Derek giggled a bit and Stiles had to check himself. “Did you just giggle? Oh my God, who are you?”

“You said shit creek. It was funny.” Derek defended himself. “I could always just rip your throat out with my teeth.”

“Aww, honey, you say the sweetest things,” Stiles muttered just as Scott came into the kitchen.

“Did I miss something?”

From the bedroom across the floor, Erica called out “Just Mommy and Daddy trying to out-snark each other.”

Stiles felt his face flush with embarrassment. “Rude ingrates.” Then he continued to make them all breakfast and cleaned up afterwards. God he could be such a pushover.

The day went by quietly and with much frustration all around. This was now the sixth day of full on house arrest for the pack and it was starting to show. Jackson and Scott wrestled in the bit of area of the lawn cordoned off by the mountain ash. Meanwhile, Erica and Boyd fucked like rabbits in their room and not for the first time Stiles thanked all the holy werewolf gods that he did not have super hearing. Derek sat stiffly on the sofa for two hours straight staring at re-runs of Toddler and Tiaras. Stiles made him lunch and tried to cheer him up, but there was only so much distracting he could do that would overpower Erica’s moans. She was a screamer and Stiles often thought that it was more to embarrass the rest of the pack then the fact that she just couldn’t hold it in. Gross.

Stiles spent the day pouring over Derek’s personal library up on the third floor, with small breaks for lunch and dinner, until Derek came to force him out around midnight.

“C’mon, Stiles, time to get some sleep.”

Stiles didn’t even look up. “Not yet, Derek, I’m onto something.”

“What? What is it?” He sounded eager, desperate as Stiles for something to solve their double trouble problem.

Stiles finally looked up for the first time since Derek entered the room and was struck by those green eyes. Every once in a while they just took him by surprise in their beauty. He supposed that was another thing he’d never get used to.

“I ah, I just…” He paused to clear his throat. It was just Derek. He could talk to Derek. God, usually he could barely stop talking to Derek. “I’ve been reading up on past encounters between werewolf packs, specifically looking for something that mirrored our circumstances, you know, a stronger pack with more advantages against a not weak pack, but less advantageous. And I think I’ve got something.” He let the academia push away whatever brain transplant he’d just had a second ago.

“Well, what is it?”

Stiles grinned. Derek wasn’t going to like this. “Think about it, we’ve already utilized it, but not in the best way for us.”

“What are you…” Stiles’ grin turned maniacal and he began tracing a circular pattern on the table he was using as a desk. Finally Derek caught on, much quicker than Stiles thought he would. “No. No, we’re not doing that. You’re not doing that.”

“Then you think of a better plan!” Stiles almost shouted, now mad.

Derek always gave as well as he took, and he spring boarded off Stiles’ anger right into his own. “Absolutely not. We’re done talking about it.”

“We’re not done talking about it! Not until I say so.” Derek roared at this.

“You are not the alpha, Stiles. I am. We’re done. You’re not doing that.”

“Like hell I’m not, Derek. I’m taking this to the pack for a vote.”

“They won’t like this anymore than I do.”

“Doesn’t matter. If it can save the pack, then you’ll have to tear me apart to keep me from doing what I can to save us.”

Derek stared him down for a long time, the anger not ebbing away. “Fine. Then I’ll tear you apart.” He stormed out the door, down to the kitchen and howled so loudly even Stiles could hear it three stories up.

Doors opened and slammed and Stiles figured the pack was gathering in the kitchen. Derek was crazy if he thought Stiles was going to take that lying down, getting to the pack first and spinning the facts his way.

He took the stairs two at a time on his way down, passing a sleepy looking Scott on the second floor landing.

“DEREK!” He raged. “That’s so not fair!”

He plowed into the kitchen, the pack already there and Scott right behind him. Derek spoke before Stiles, commanding the room with his conviction rather than his position as alpha. “Stiles wants to be a dumbass and circle the Alpha pack with mountain ash and then lead the hunters to where they are, all the while hoping that he can do it fast enough that the Alphas don’t realize what he’s doing.”

The pack sat in stunned silence. Lydia was the first to speak, and surprisingly, on Stiles’ side. “Strategically it makes sense. The plan has a few vital flaws, but with my help we can minimize those and give the plan a fighting chance.”

Derek’s red gaze flashed at Lydia. “NO.”

Lydia wasn’t Lydia for no reason though. CEOs and MIT professors alike didn’t cower before her for her looks. “It’s a flawed plan, but it’s the best we got. Stiles knows the risks and everyone in this pack knows that if we don’t do everything we can to make it as flawless as possible, he’s just going to do it anyway and likely get himself killed.”

“No.” Derek said again, quieter this time, but just as emphatic.

“What’s better, Derek,” Jackson came to his girlfriend’s defense, “Stiles doing this with no backup, or Stiles doing this with you ready to jump in to defend him if they catch wind. Hell, we can probably provide a distraction that reduces the risk to Stiles.”

Erica spoke up then, while Derek brooded silently on his kitchen stool. “I don’t like it either, Derek. You know I love me some Batman, but that’s just it. He’s Batman and we’re his Gotham City. It’s in his bones to defend us just like you do your best to defend him. He has to do this. Look at his face.” They both looked over to him, then, Stiles only had eyes for Derek. It struck him how hopeless Derek looked. Why was this such a big deal to him? Derek was acting like his family was about to die again and he couldn’t do anything about it. “He’s determined, Derek.”

Stiles nodded at her because she was right. He was going to do this whether the pack liked it or not. Because that’s what you do when you love something. You defend it with your life and you never look back.

“I’m coming with you.”

Stiles still couldn’t speak. Something about this moment called for silence from him.

“Then let’s talk strategy in the morning.” Lydia said with authority. Boyd and Isaac nodded solemnly, touched Stiles on the back and shoulders as they passed him and went back to their respective rooms. Erica gave him a quick squeeze and Lydia a full out hug and then they too went off to their rooms, Jackson trailing behind Lydia like heeling would get him a treat.

Lastly Scott put his hands on his shoulders, looked him square in the eye and asked him if he was sure.

Stiles nodded and in the unspoken language of best friends, Stiles knew that Scott has his back 100%. Finally Scott trudged back up the stairs and Stiles was left alone with Derek.

He wouldn’t look at him. Derek refused to meet his eyes now. “Let’s just go to bed.” Stiles offered up, an olive branch.

Still refusing to look at him, Derek nodded and stood up, his pajama pants hanging off him loosely. “Yeah. Bed.”

He followed Derek up the stairs and into Derek’s room, halfway worried that he wouldn’t be welcome there. But before he could discern if he should leave for the closet next door, Derek pulled him into the covers and attached his nose to Stiles’ neck like glue. Stiles shrugged his outer shirt and pants off fifteen minutes later when it was clear Derek wasn’t going to move anytime soon.

With a quick kiss to Derek’s hair before he could psych himself out, Stiles said something he promised himself earlier he wouldn’t say. “I’m sorry. I have to do this.”

Just when he thought Derek had fallen asleep against him and he was beginning to doze himself he heard his reply. “Don’t want you to go.”

Stiles ignored his remark, unsure what to say, and they both fell asleep unhappily for the first time in months.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning Stiles awoke to an empty bed. He tumbled down the stairs a few minutes later to the smell of coffee and burnt eggs.

“Derek, how many times have we talked about this? Don’t ever try to cook. Ever. Bad things happen, man.”

Stiles walked up right behind him, put a hand to his lower back while he peeked at the mess. Derek stood over the range in his bare feet with his hair rumpled adorably and Stiles couldn’t breathe.

“I thought I’d let you sleep in. You spent all day researching yesterday. I know how that exhausts you.”

“I, uh… Thanks for the thought, I guess. What were you trying to make before…this… happened?” He asked with a side glare to the black eggs in the pan.

“Shut up.”

“No, really, it looks like it might have been edible at one point. That’s an improvement.”

Derek’s face formed a small grin. That was all Stiles could ask for, a break no matter how small in the doom and gloom show that starred Derek McBroodypants Hale.

“It was scrambled eggs. I don’t know what happened. I did exactly what you do when you cook it! This isn’t my fault.”

“So what was it?”

“What?”

“What was it that distracted you so badly that you didn’t smell the burning eggs?”

Suddenly whatever grin lingered on that Grecian face disappeared faster than fried food at a fat camp. “What do you think, Stiles?” He replied, shrugging Stiles’ hand off his back as he stomped to the trashcan to dump the ruined eggs out.

“I know you don’t like this, Derek. You’ve made that super clear, okay?”

“Well I see you’re taking _your alpha’s_ opinion into careful consideration. So thanks for that.”

Stiles hated and loved it when Derek got sassy. For one, he was actually pretty amusing when he got like that, but if you took into consideration that he didn’t get sassy unless he was furiously angry but was trying not to show it, well, Stiles would rather not hear his sass.

“I’m your second, right?”

Derek took Stiles’ change of subject in stride, used to his brain making strange jumps. By this time he’d learned to just stick with him. “Of course you are. You know that.”

“And the second is in charge when the alpha is incapacitated, right?”

Derek looked away again, scrubbing the pan furiously into the sink to get rid of the last bits of burnt food. “I don’t like where this is going.”

“That’s because you know where it’s going and it’s going my way.”

“Stiles.” He could hear the clear ‘stop talking now’ implied in that tone of voice, but Stiles was never very good at listening to Derek when he was being ridiculous.

“I think you’re emotionally incapacitated right now. You aren’t thinking clearly, man. You know this is the best option. Yeah it sucks and it’s dangerous, but if it were something you could do you would have done it already and I would have had to save your furry ass twice by now.”

“I’m not emotionally incapacitated.” But he wouldn’t meet Stiles’ eyes when he said that, and his right hand was tapping the counter in a very telling way. Derek never showed his nervousness physically.

Luckily for Derek the rest of the pack began to trail in after that, their noses squished up at the smell.

“God, Stiles, burn much?” Lydia sassed from the stairs.

Scott, as numero uno best friend, came to his defense. “Lydia, Stiles has never burned anything in his life.”

“Obviously Derek tried to cook for us.” Erica said from the stool, though when she got there Stiles couldn’t say. He was used to werewolves just appearing out of thin air. “That’s sweet, alpha-mine, but please leave the cooking that involves more than pouring from a box into a bowl to Mommy, okay?” She condescendingly patted Derek on the head and his only reaction was to sigh and look like he was questioning his life choices.

“Can we just get this over with?” Derek pleaded to the room at large.

“We’re still waiting on Boyd and Isaac.” Jackson pointed out helpfully.

While they waited, Stiles started re-making breakfast with the few eggs they had left and then switched to pancakes when it became abundantly clear that the meager amount of scrambled eggs was not going to cut it in a werewolf pack full of hungry hungry wolvsies.

“Okay they’re here let’s get started.” Lydia began, her plate neatly cleared and her silver wear crossed nicely on the plate. “I did some thinking last night after we went to bed, and here’s what I’ve come up with…”

Stiles zoomed in and out of concentration, castigating himself each time he zoned out. This was his life they were trying to save, here, and all he could think about was why Derek was so mad about this. Lydia explained succinctly how Derek would stay with Stiles while he poured the ash, Scott would procure the ash from Deaton and the rest of the pack would distract the Alphas so they wouldn’t notice they were being surrounded. That was when Stiles had the most brilliant of all brilliant ideas.

“Wait! I got it!”

Lydia did not look amused that Stiles had interrupted her in her element. “What Stiles?”

“What if we coordinate with the Argents and make it so that the Alphas are distracted by the hunters? They’re only here a few more days and we could totally kill two birds with one stone. That also keeps you guys out of the line of fire. If they’re too busy fighting each other, we can wipe them both out without having to spill human blood. I mean, it’s like perfect!”

Everyone but Derek looked skeptical.

“How are we going to explain to the Argents that we plan on getting all their hunter friends killed, but not by us?” Asked Boyd.

Scott raised his hand. Stiles just rolled his eyes. “Scott you don’t have to raise your hand. C’mon, man.”

He lowered his arm awkwardly. “Well, I was just thinking. If you wanted, I mean, if it’ll help. I could talk to Allison.”

Derek spoke up then, full alpha voice. “That’s probably our best bet. Allison could sell it to her dad who could get all the other hunters to the rendezvous point.”

“I love it when you use big words. Even better when they’re French.”

 “Stop flirting, this is serious.” Erica snapped. “Okay so Scott talks to Allison, and says what? Oh, hey, can you convince your dad it’s a good idea to have all these hunters be at this exact point and at this exact time?”

Lydia took over again, “No. I hate to say this, but I think we’re going to have to play Allison. She would never condone killing people. Not that we are either, really, we’re just trying to protect ourselves.”

“You don’t have to convince us, baby, we know. Just finish what you were going to say.” Jackson said, rubbing her back comfortingly.

“Scott will have to let it ‘slip’ that, I dunno, the pack will be meeting the Alphas at a certain place and time. And let her do the rest. She won’t be able to let that go, even if she’s defensive of us. She’ll have to tell her dad.”

“Even better if we can get him to overhear it.” Stiles pointed out. “That way we minimize the chance that she doesn’t say anything.”

“Good point, Stiles.”

Stiles nodded. The rest of the morning went by smoothly in plans and probabilities. Lydia determined exactly what Scott was going to say and when, based on her deep knowledge of Allison as a person and how she thought the conversation would go. Isaac was put in charge of leading Chris to the meeting point between Scott and Allison, the plan to make it look like he was trying to find an escaped Scott.

The majority of the plan was going down the next night, to give enough time for Allison to convey the meeting place to the hunters, and for them to get enough mountain ash to cover the amount of space the Alphas would take up.

Stiles called his dad to update him. He kept his part of it purposefully vague and emphasizing the fact that Derek would be with him. That calmed his dad down more than anything. Stiles had no idea why.

Around lunchtime Scott called Allison and asked her to meet up at their spot in the forest that was about halfway between the Hale House and town, for both of their safety. Scott left twenty minutes later and Isaac left to lead Chris to the spot.

They laid in wait for several hours, trying not to show their nervousness to each other, but failing miserably. Stiles bit his fingernails clear off and Derek watched two hours of Honey Boo Boo accidentally. Stiles was starting to wonder if it actually was an accident. Derek seemed to be a bit too defensive when Stiles asked him why he watched horrible reality TV.

Scott and Isaac came back beaming that all had gone to plan. By the glazed look in his best friend’s eyes, Stiles could see that Scott had even gotten to make out with Allison. He could see where this was going again. Things were just going to crash tomorrow when Allison realized that Scott set her up. Stiles decided there was no point in thinking about it now, he would worry about that tomorrow when everyone was still alive and healthy and happy.

Dinner was a subdued affair. Even Stiles’ famous meatloaf couldn’t calm everyone’s nerves enough. Boyd kept making falsely offhand remarks about the lack of activity from the Alphas that did little for the peace of mind of the group. They hadn’t heard anything from the Alphas in three days, but Derek was convinced they’d made their hideout in the factory where they had the initial meeting between the alphas and seconds. Something about the smell, Stiles didn’t bother asking, he just trusted Derek was right. Lydia had it all figured out, the exact moment of contact to initiate, the amount of time to engage down to the seconds, and the escape route that would wall the Alphas in while simultaneously keeping Derek and Stiles from danger.

Isaac burped and the surprised look on his face was enough to cut the tension at last. With the group laughing and teasing poor Isaac, Stiles felt all was right in the world. He had his pack, he had his best friend, and he had his um sort of other best friend? Well, he had a Derek and not many people had those these days. Yeah, he reminded himself, this was why they were doing this. To protect _this_. To protect pack.

A few flustered minutes later, Lydia and Erica cleared the dishes to absolutely everyone’s surprise. “What?” Lydia asked innocently, like she didn’t know how out of character for the female members this was. “Stiles shouldn’t have to do the dishes every night.”

Stiles knew what this was, then. This was a just-in-case-Stiles-dies nice favor. So he let it go. If they needed to do this just in case he died, well, let them have that. He wasn’t going to stand in their way. Fewer dishes for him to do was always a good thing.

Everyone retired early, following Isaac’s example. Erica and Boyd were at it again, and judging by Derek’s face, Lydia and Jackson too. Stiles once again thanked anyone listening for not granting him supernatural senses. He did not need to hear that on what might be his last day on the planet.

Oh God, it might be his last night on the planet.

Stiles wasn’t under any illusions. He knew that his part of the plan was still the most risky by far. He would be between the Alphas and the hunters and his human skin was far more fragile than the werewolves’. On top of that, these Alphas already had a grudge against him. There would be no hesitation in killing him should they discover him. Derek was an amazing fighter, and Stiles trusted him with his life, but Derek couldn’t fight off five Alphas at once.

That night they both lay in bed unable to sleep. Stiles could tell by his breathing and lack of cuddling that Derek was just as awake as he was. Stiles couldn’t stop going over everything that could go wrong in his head. What if the hunters didn’t show up? What if the Alphas figured out what they were doing and left before he could finish the line and then the hunters just killed the pack? What if…

A hand on his settled his thoughts. Derek rolled over to face him. “Can’t sleep either?”

Stiles huffed a laugh. “No, I can’t keep picturing everything that could go wrong.”

“Me neither. I wish I could just… turn off my brain for a bit.”

“Yeah.” Stiles agreed. They sat there in silence again for a few more minutes, Derek’s hand rubbing his forearm in lazy circles and doing a lot for derailing his disastrous thoughts.

Stiles gave into the pleasure of his touch and burrowed his face into Derek’s neck in a reverse of their usual pattern. What the hell? Potential last night on the planet, right? Derek’s hand stopped briefly and then resumed, a new emotion behind the touch that Stiles couldn’t quite name.

It felt differently. Before the touch was strictly to comfort, but Stiles didn’t spend as much time around Derek as he did because Derek was so good at verbally communicating. Everything Derek said had to be verified by his actions. And Stiles, who had his PhD in reading Derek’s intent, could not for the life of him determine what he was trying to convey. So he decided to let it play out.

He buried deeper into Derek’s chest, the familiar smell of forest and sweat calming him. Slowly Derek’s hand moved from Stiles’ arm and moved to his back, rubbing sensually up and down. Stiles was confused, but the touch felt good so he leaned into it.

They sat like that for countless moments, lost in each other and their own thoughts. Until Derek’s hand ventured higher than before to the back of Stiles’ neck and pulled his head back until they were nose to nose. Stiles had never been this close to Derek’s face before and he couldn’t help but notice how he was just as beautiful a half inch away as he was a foot. Gathering his courage Stiles looked into Derek’s eyes, unsure of what he would find there.

He saw fire. He’d never said it out loud because it would kill Derek to know that Stiles related him so often to fire, but it suited him perfectly. Not because his family was killed by it, though Stiles knew enough to know not to ever bring that up if he ever explained this theory to Derek. But most of Derek’s emotions acted like fire. He felt them to his bone, and he felt them quickly but was forever changed by them. Stiles had never seen this type of fire in Derek’s eyes before. It wasn’t the anger he was used to and it wasn’t the adrenaline of a life or death situation. But there it was, burning ferociously out of those verdant eyes.

Stiles just couldn’t tell what he was asking with that fire. Derek nuzzled their noses together and it slammed into Stiles like a freight train. He wanted to kiss Derek. He’d wanted to kiss him for a while. He vehemently and with his entire being wanted to close that miniscule distance between them and kiss the shit out of him.

Derek seemed to be on the same page because before Stiles could make a decision either way, Derek brushed his lips tentatively against Stiles’ and backed off, searching his eyes for rejection or encouragement.

Stiles wasn’t about that life though, and he chased Derek’s lips until he found them again and made them his bitch. By that, he meant that they slotted together perfectly and Stiles let out a moan that would have embarrassed him if he were in the right mind to have even heard it.

They lost themselves to the kiss. Stiles poked his tongue into Derek’s pliant mouth and got to know it biblically. He resettled himself on top of Derek, pushing their hips together and rubbing a bit more than necessary at the hard line of Derek’s flesh. When Derek let out a desperate gasp, Stiles couldn’t even feel one iota of guilt about it though, and just kept rubbing, the friction bringing him close.

“Want you” Stiles bit out through gritted teeth as Derek suckled his neck.

Derek flipped them over, pushing Stiles onto his back and inserting himself in the V of Stiles’ legs. “Want you too. Want you in my mouth.”

Oh, God, Derek’s mouth. Stiles hadn’t ever thought of it before, but now he could think of nothing else. “Yes. Yes, that. Let’s do that. Yes. Now, please.”

Derek chuckled and stripped them of their shirts and pants. Then he took his time kissing down from Stiles’ neck to his pained nipples to his jutting hip bones. “Derek, please. C’mon, this is torture.”

“That’s the point.” He said in between biting at Stiles’ thigh and blowing air onto his balls. “But if you insist.”

Then he sucked Stiles down to the root. Wow, Derek must have done this before, and the thought made Stiles harder and more jealous the more he thought about it. He didn’t like the thought of Derek getting batting practice to make it into the major leagues.

Before long he couldn’t think at all, so that solved that problem. All he knew in this universe was Derek’s wet mouth, Derek’s throat vibrating around him as he hummed, Derek’s fingers jacking the base of his dick.

Stiles reached down to card his fingers through Derek’s hair, pulling him harder onto his dick, fucking his mouth. Derek took it like a champ, encouraging him to go harder and faster, his tongue doing crazy things to Stiles’ cock.

“Derek, I’m close. I’m gonna—“

Instead of pulling off, Derek made a come hither motion with his crooked fingers and Stiles spilled down his throat in harsh spurts.

Boneless, Stiles fell back onto the mattress to gather himself. “Hold on, dude, I’ll get you in a sec… I just need a minute.”

Derek crawled back up the mattress to Stiles’ side and sheepishly replied, “That won’t be necessary.”

“Nah, man. I’m not a tease like that, just give me a second.”

“No, I mean… I came.”

Stiles looked down, saw the evidence and lit up with a smile. “Oh. You came just from blowing me? That’s fucking awesome. Let’s go again in a few minutes. If I don’t get to touch that dick I might explode.”

Derek was nice enough to let Stiles explore his penis for the next few hours until they succumbed to exhaustion.

If Stiles had given any thought to a sexual encounter with Derek (outside of his dreams, he literally just did not allow himself to think about it) he would have banked on there being a bit more awkwardness than there was the following morning.

Stiles woke up as usual to Derek spooned against him, though his morning wood was a bit more welcome than usual. He slipped his pillow into Derek’s arms like usual and went to make breakfast, cognizant of the fact that this could be his last breakfast with the pack.

So he made crepes because crepes were fucking awesome and if this _was_ his last breakfast then he was going to have the best.

Stiles placed Derek’s coffee in front of him when he finally stumbled into the kitchen.

“If you don’t want anyone to know you should go shower.” He said, more awake than usual for this early in the morning.

“Dude, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I doubt anyone got much sleep last night so they probably all just heard it anyway. No point in pretending. Nothing wrong with comfort between two consenting dudes, right? They can get over it.”

Stiles grimaced inwardly. It wasn’t anything like that, to him. Being with Derek last night was the highlight of his life—his skin, his lips, his fucking stubble. He was the peak, the summit, Stiles couldn’t climb any higher than Derek and he didn’t even want to try. Derek was his Everest and he reached the zenith. Now if only he could plant his flag and declare the mountain his.

A physical ache took up Stiles’ heart when he thought about it, for years now he’d wanted nothing more than to be able to call Derek his. A latent desire, one he repressed out of fear of the pack smelling it on him or pushing his homosexual desire onto a seemingly straight Derek and freaking him out.

How was Stiles supposed to know Derek swung that way? He judged that he was probably the closest person to Derek alive and he had no idea Derek could suck cock like a fucking champ. He’d never seen Derek express interest in anyone, gender notwithstanding.

This was the worst, to be so close to something yet so far. Derek just wanted to shut out the world for a few hours and what better way to do that then the guy conveniently sleeping in your bed for the past month? Best if he made use of him if he was going to take up the whole bed, right? Stiles figured he should probably feel a bit more used, but all he could focus on was how he’d take Derek any way he could have him. His gratefulness of the intimacy Derek granted him overpowered any self-righteous anger Stiles could muster.

“Yeah. Consenting adults.” Derek mumbled darkly, his eyes on his coffee, unaware of the four drops of irish creamer Stiles slipped into it that morning. “I’m gonna go shower and get changed.”

That was out of the ordinary, but Stiles thought maybe he just needed a moment to himself. “Yeah, okay, breakfast’ll be ready when you get back down. Crepes today.”

Derek flashed a fake smile his way and then bolted up the stairs, passing Lydia and Jackson on the stairs.

“Ugh, Stilinski, you reek of semen and sadness.”

Stiles felt his face turn red. He wasn’t embarrassed they could smell Derek on him, he’d never be embarrassed about that, but he was a bit flummoxed that Jackson could sense his sadness. He hoped to God that Derek didn’t catch that before he ran off.

It was bad enough that he put his entire heart into their stolen moments the night before, he didn’t need the rest of the pack seeing his rejection.

“Crepes?”

Lydia took pity on him and sent Jackson back upstairs for something all three of them knew she didn’t need. She took out the pad of paper from beside the telephone and a pen and scribbled a quick _you okay?_

Trust Lydia to find the only way nosy werewolves wouldn’t be able to eavesdrop on their conversation. _Yeah, I assume you know what happened._

Lydia exaggeratedly rolled her eyes. _You two have been circling each other for years._

They had? This was news to Stiles. _It was just a comfort thing and now it’s over so whatever._

_Oh honey, you tell yourself that._

_Lyds, I have to tell myself that. What else am I going to say? I freaking love him and all he wants is my body? That’s super helpful._

Stiles didn’t like the maternal look in Lydia’s eyes. That look never meant good things, and if Lydia, queen of hiding emotions, looked at you like that you were in deep shit.

_Give him a chance. He’s bad with people, you know that better than anyone. And he loves you. Can’t you see how much he loves you? It’s like actually pathetic in some cultures. Just don’t push him away because you’re scared of your own feelings, mmk?_

Stiles pouted in a manly fashion.

_Promise me Stiles!_ She underlined it three times when she sensed his hesitancy. Lydia could spot weaknesses like other girls spotted cute boys.

“Okay, fine, I promise. Geez, woman.”

They were forced to wrap up the conversation when Jackson came back down with Scott and Isaac in tow, grabby hands clamoring for their crepes.

Stiles went all out, strawberries and blueberries and whipped cream. Counting that first breakfast after his reconciliation with his dad, this was a top five breakfast of all time. Easy.

Except that Derek was weird. It wasn’t even that he wouldn’t look at him, he just…ugh he wasn’t looking at Stiles the _right_ way, the way he always did. It was off, it was like someone stole his affection. Or maybe Stiles just sucked it out of his dick last night and now Derek was done with him, Stiles couldn’t help but think.

The day dragged on in last minute details and awkward maneuvering between Derek and Stiles. The alpha wouldn’t allow himself to be in a room alone with Stiles, and the not as oblivious as he’d like pack were totally on to his game and took it upon themselves to arrange it so that they were constantly being left alone.

Stiles wasn’t sure who was more tortured by this. Both of them had a pretty good case. Stiles finally had to text Erica, the instigator, and demand that they stop. For reasons.

But the last few hours of daylight slipped between their fingers and after a rushed dinner of leftovers, the plan went underway.

Stiles and Derek had to be in place first in order to begin circling the factory with the ash dropped off by Deaton earlier in the day. Stiles gave a shallow nod to his pack-mates and pushed himself out the door, not bothering to see if Derek was following. He plopped himself in the passenger seat of the Camaro and put his feet up on the dash. If Derek was going to be a douche, then Stiles would give him a reason to be a douche.

But Derek just ignored his feet when he slid into the seat next to Stiles, turned the car on and began to drive, all without a word or bitch face.

“Are you going to be weird about this forever?” Stiles didn’t do silences. Everyone knows this as fact. So Derek shouldn’t look so surprised that he chose to break it.

“This isn’t the time to talk about it.”

“No this is a perfect time to talk about it. What if we die? Are you going to let our friendship end on this note?”

“We’ll talk about it _when_ we make it out of there, okay?”

“Why so we can postpone the rejection?” Stiles kicked his feet off the dash, flopping his arms onto his chest. “God, spare me.”

Derek looked over at him then, his face earnest. “Stiles. We’ll talk after. Let’s just focus on this for now, alright? It’s not like we don’t have pressing issues going on.”

But Stiles just couldn’t let it go, not like that, not that fast. And like usual his mouth got away from him. “Seemed like a pretty pressing issue last night.”

“Goddammit, Stiles. Can we not?!” Finally, finally Stiles was getting a real emotional reaction from him.  “I need to focus on getting you out of this alive and all you can think about is your dick.”

That did kind of put things in perspective. In a quiet voice and staring out the window at the forest surrounding the road, Stiles replied “I was mostly thinking about your dick, but yeah. Guess it can wait. For now.”

Derek wisely chose not to respond and they sat in the silence that Stiles so hated for the entire seven minute drive to the outskirts of the abandon factory. He parked the car in the preplanned spot, and they left their emotional baggage in the car as they fell into Derek-and-Stiles monster killing duo. This wasn’t their first rodeo, but it was the most danger they’d ever faced before.

Before they took off, Derek popped the trunk to unload the large bags of mountain ash. Stiles crept up behind him, aware that Derek’s werewolf senses would keep him from being surprised. Against his better judgment he put his head on Derek’s shoulder, following his line of sight into the cramped trunk. His hand gripped Derek’s bicep and in a small voice he begged quietly, “Please just be safe, okay?”

“I will if you will. Deal?”

They both knew Stiles couldn’t promise that so they both left the clearing just as frustrated as they entered it, but with a clear purpose and a rain check for an unpleasant conversation hanging over their heads.


End file.
